


The Brothers Blake

by Littled



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Brothers, Child Abuse, F/M, Minor Character Death, Orphans, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 07:51:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littled/pseuds/Littled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake was not his mother's only child. When he lost his mother, he also lost his brother. Now a man grown, he uses his position in the Gotham Police Department to search for his brother, whom he only remembers as Barbar.<br/>Meanwhile, Barsad, second in command to Bane, uses his connections and position to find and watch over the only family he has left. Having followed his little bird's life and career for the several years, he has at last returned to the city of his birth. (Queue the corny title music with corresponding montage of images and the names of the actors.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Such stuff as dreams are made of

John sometimes dreams of his brother. He never sees his face, but he can hear his voice, feel his arms around him. He always wakes up afterwards with his pillow damp from tears. John’s father had sent his brother away after their mother’s death, not wanting to raise a kid that wasn’t his. John knew Barbar had been in the car with them. That he had pulled John free before the car burst into flames. That is what John dreams of, watching his mother burn while Barbar wraps his arms around him, rocking him, and whispering that everything would be ok.

John had never stopped asking where his brother was. He had asked his father until the man had lashed out and smacked John hard enough that he was dizzy all day, yelling that he had sent that little bastard back to the hell he belonged in. He asked the social worker who took him after he watched his father’s brains bet blown out. She told him he didn’t have a brother. The priest at the home had told him the same thing and had told him to stop making up stories when he had insisted his brother was real.

Now he stood in a dust filled records hall, a brown file in his hands. He ran his fingers across the file number before opening the cover. He was greeted by the smiling face of his mother. It wasn’t what he remembered of her. He only remembered her face bloodied and contorted in pain, not happy and smiling. In the picture she was a little boy in her lap, who in turn was holding a baby in his arms. The little boy was grinning and holding the baby as if wanting to show him off. Here was the face that had eluded John all his life.

"Barbar." the whisper left John’s lips as he traced the face. He slide the picture to the side, not wanting to turn on its back out of some illogical fear that the smiling boy would fade from the picture. The next page was the accident report. His eyes skimmed over the report to the mention of survivors: Robin John Blake and Barsad Arkin Regnall.

His revelry was broken by the beep of his watch, warning him that he had 10 minutes before he needed to report in to the desk sergeant. He scribbled down Barsad’s information and started to replace the file, but stopped and looked at the picture. He didn’t have any pictures of his mother or for that matter his brother. After a quick look around and a nervous lick of the lips he slide the photo into his coat and replace the file before running out of the archives.

—-

Barsad trained his scope on the young cop as he dragged himself up to his one room apartment. It was Barsad’s night off and if he wanted to waste it watching some low level, nobody cop get his ass handed to him by Gotham’s pathetic excuse for criminals that was no one’s concern.

It had been Talia who had gained access to Robin’s records. She had sent Barsad everything from the original accident report with their mother, to the hospital records from when he was with his father, to the report of the old man’s death, and even Robin’s police academy grades. Bane had gone from indifferent to annoyed to enigma as Barsad continued to get packets of information about the young man.

Barsad had told Bane about the night his mother had given birth to Robin. How Robin’s father had gone out drinking and gambling and how Barsad had stayed with his mother the whole time, letting her squeeze his hand and listening to her tell him how he was going to be a big brother; of finally going with her to the hospital and refusing to leave her side until his little brother was born. He told Bane about the night their mother decided that she had had enough and had packed the boys into the car, Barsad in back telling stories to little Robin. Barsad told Bane about the gasp of breath and the silence as the car twisted and slid sideways until the tires hit something and the car flipped. He knows logically there must have been other sounds, but the only one he could ever remember was Robin’s terrified scream of “Barbar" over and over as the car spun. He remembers his own terror when the screams stopped. After that his memory is fuzzy. He has a brief memory of holding Robin and telling him everything was ok. but its a blurry memory. 

He fought and screamed for Robin when he was loaded onto a plane and sent across the world. As he grew up in the violent world of Eastern Europe he would dream of finally making it back to Gotham. The first thing he swore he would do was find Robin, the second thing was that he would gut the man who had taken his little brother away from him.


	2. Little Light of Love

Barsad ran his fingers down Talia’s back, tracing the curve of her spine. Her skin and hair glowed in the soft candle light of the hotel room, rented by a proxy for this last moment together.

"I need to get back early. We are ready for the next step." her voice was still heavy with sleep. “I asked Bane to put two men on your brother. They will keep him away from the sewers when its time."

"Like that will stop him. He will probably end up leading the officers down himself." He leaned forward and buried his face in her hair, breathing in her smell before kissing a line down her shoulder. “He was always getting into trouble. He had a temper even when he was little. And he was always so curious and stubborn." He spoke between kisses.

Talia hid her face in her arms and tried to muffle a giggle as his whiskers tickled her back. Barsad stopped and leaned back onto an elbow so he could look down at her when she turned her face toward him.

"I wish things were different. We are about to tear his world apart. He has been fighting alone for so long. He won’t understand." He closed his eyes as the guilt and sorrow for what was about to begin rose up inside of him. 

"He will. My love. We will keep him safe and when this is over, we will explain it to him. We will bring him home." She shifted over toward him and put a hand on his cheek drawing him down into a kiss. “You will be able to see more of him once we begin. But let us have tonight for ourselves. Let me selfish tonight. Let me have you here, all of you. Let me rest in your arms. The months to come will be cold and lonely for me."

Barsad wrapped his arms around her and held her tight wishing he could shield her, keep her safe. But soon she would slip from his arms to take her place in the path they were on. The choices of others had stolen his brother from him, but it was his choice and her’s that would now separate their paths. They both knew the risks, both knew that one or both might not survive the coming months. He kissed the top of her head lightly and then her lips just as lightly when she turned her face up to him.

"I am here. All of me."

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

John pushed past the grounds keeper as the man opened the gate. He ignored the man's glare as he had every week since he had first started coming here, slipping between dawn and the start of school when he was younger. The gravestones in this area were small and plan. Not the elaborately decorated statues of the rich, as they trying to cling to life through the memories of the living. The massive statues of noble looking men and the delicately ornamental tombs of women seemed to crying out "Here I am. Remember me. I am important. I was rich. Remember me. Remember me." But all of those were tended to by the grounds keeper and his assistances. The graves in this back corner were not. Most were overgrown by weeds, covered with cigarette butts from teenagers. the stones themselves were often covered in spray paint, or if the defacer was really determined, the stones might have been carved into.

There were two exceptions. Arinna Regnall Blake and John Lewis Blake. John's grave was kept clean and his stone was in relatively decent condition. But Arinna's was a garden. A ring of white stones edged the grave and was filled in with numerous flowering plants. Her stone was clean and topped with small pretty things that John would find and bring to her. Sometimes people would steal some of the flowers or nick nacks. John would just replace the flowers and find more things to bring her. He would tell her how he found the half of a Robin's egg outside his door on his birthday or how he had slipped in the alley way chasing some shoplifter and landed on an old metal game piece. Today he clutched a small plastic picture frame. It was small enough to fit in his palm and cheap, unlikely to appeal to most people.

"Hi mom. I'm sorry I didn't make it here last week. Things have been getting weird. Commissioner Gordon was injured and I got a promotion. It's still weird to think that I am now a detective." John huffed out a chuckle before his mask of good humor slipped from his face. "A few weeks ago one of the kids from the orphanage was found dead. He had aged out but he had a little brother at the orphanage. It made me think of Barbar. It could have been him in that sewer, with me stuck in that place wondering where he was." He put the picture frame on top of the gravestone, moving a chipped tea cup to the side to make room. "But I brought you this. I guess I shouldn't call him Barbar anymore. I know his name. I know his name, mom. Barsad Arkin Regnall. Its weird to say it, but, familiar. As if I have heard it before. I guess I did when I was little, from you and dad. And I guess I also know now why, maybe, dad sent him away. Barsad is my half brother, isn't he? Dad didn't want him because Barsad wasn't his."

John clenched his jaw and glared at the stone with his father's name etched onto it.  
"I know you wouldn't want me to hate him, mom. But he took my brother away from me. He took him away when I needed him when you died and he took him away from me when he died. Its his fault that I am alone. It's his fault that I have had to deal with all of this shit by myself, with out my brother. What if I do find him and he wants nothing to do with me? What if I am still alone? This world, it chews us up and spits us out. The rich get away with murder, while the poor struggle just to die peacefully and not in pain."

John knelt down and pressed his forehead against the stone.   
"What if I am truly alone?" He asked the cool empty morning air

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this stuff as a dabble when I couldn't sleep, so I don't know if there will ever be more. It's totally unbetad so sorry for the terrible writing.


End file.
